


don't get too close, it's dark inside

by queermccoy



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Buzzfeed Unsolved Fusion, Anxiety, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Demonic Possession, Demons, Holy Water, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jealousy, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Mike Hanlon, Mentioned Sonia Kaspbrak, Panic, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29548524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queermccoy/pseuds/queermccoy
Summary: “See, that’s not really something someoneneeds,” Richie says, like an asshole. “It’s really more of a creature comfort.” He pauses, deeply contemplative. “Like God.”When Eddie looks over, he’s standing with his hands in his stupid jean jacket, Sherpa collar matted with age. His elbows are sticking out, taking up so much space in the world. He’s grinning and it makes Eddie feel stupid, brain fuzzing out like an old television. Eddie wants to set himself on fire, just to get away from him.“I’m ignoring you,” Eddie tells him, and then walks away.or, Eddie needs holy water for their dumb web show and Richie is along for the ride.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	don't get too close, it's dark inside

**Author's Note:**

> This is stupid. It's stupid and self-indulgent and not beta'ed and doesn't actually make sense so proceed with caution. Title is unfortunately from Demons by Imagine Dragons. 
> 
> **Content Warnings:**  
>  Some eh talk about religion that's probably insensitive, Richie makes a whore-phobic joke but I stole it from Bob's Burgers so it's rated for primetime, Eddie perceives Richie as straight and at least mildly homophobic, they are in their mid-to-late 20s, the barest hint of daddy kink joke, I do not know how Catholic churches work really I'm only half Catholic and that half never went to church, this Eddie sees a therapist so he knows he's dramatic and kind of a lot all the time unlike canon Eddie who thinks no one else is enough any of the time, there's some light rough housing, they talk over each other a lot, I hate that I'm even thinking it but maybe Eddie is a Sagittarius?, this isn't a The Exorcist (Fox) crossover but it's not not a The Exorcist (Fox) crossover, I miss the Exorcist (Fox), not enough Mike Hanlon, open ended, Sonia continues to do a number on Eddie, and Richie is not a demon.

“Is this necessary?” Richie Tozier asks. If he were anyone else, he might only sound exasperated, maybe annoyed. Because he’s Richie and he’s talking to Eddie, he sounds exasperated and annoyed but also fond.

He’s sitting in the front seat of Eddie’s sensible vehicle, keys and phone cradled in his oven mitt hands. His curly hair fans out awkwardly around his ugly trucker hat. It says, ‘Bigfoot is my boyfriend’ on the front. He got it in California a year ago to piss Eddie off but he wears it all the time. The fabric along the edge of the bill is starting to fray.

Eddie’s stupid hummingbird heart beats hard in his chest. He looks away, busies himself with keys, turning off his car. He takes his time gathering his phone and his wallet, his keys, water bottle, and his dad’s old rosary. The wooden beads clink against his keychains.

“It’s absolutely necessary, Richie! I need more holy water,” Eddie says. He flings open his car door and climbs out. He can _hear_ Richie rolling his eyes but, with herculean effort, Eddie chooses to ignore it. He takes the time to settle his father’s rosary around his neck. He pats it for luck or whatever. Spiritual shit. It hangs over the buttoned collar of his good polo. His shirt is tucked into his pressed khakis.

It’s Tuesday morning, so the church parking lot is empty. The sound of Richie getting out of the car echoes across the stretch of poorly maintained asphalt. At least one of the church officials knows he’s coming; he’d called yesterday and asked for permission and, with a deep sigh, the priest had acquiesced and told them to come the next morning.

So, here they are! Eddie reaches into his backseat and pulls out a plastic gallon of store brand water. It’s a simple, uninspired and ugly jug, but it’s about to get a makeover. “Let’s make this whore a _pretty woman_ ,” Richie had said in his best Linda Belcher voice Eddie mentioned it earlier. Eddie had laughed, but he wasn’t happy about it.

“See, that’s not really something someone _needs_ ,” Richie says, like an asshole. “It’s really more of a creature comfort.” He pauses, deeply contemplative. “Like God.”

When Eddie looks over, he’s standing with his hands in his stupid jean jacket, Sherpa collar matted with age. His elbows are sticking out, taking up so much space in the world. He’s grinning and it makes Eddie feel stupid, brain fuzzing out like an old television. Eddie wants to set himself on fire, just to get away from him.

“I’m ignoring you,” Eddie tells him, and then walks away. He doesn’t smile when he hears Richie scramble behind him to catch up. His lips twitching is purely coincidental.

So the thing is, Eddie and Richie have been ghost hunting together for almost three years now. They have a popular show on YouTube. People send them fanmail. There’s a blue checkmark next to Eddie’s name on social media. He’s internet famous, which means very rarely people recognize him in public and definitely people draw pictures of what they think his penis looks like.

Some of the penises are scarily accurate.

He tries not to think about it.

So they, Eddie and Richie, are internet famous and people ship them together which is like, whatever, fine. It’s something he talks to his therapist about and refuses to entertain with Richie, who thinks it’s a joke. Everything is a joke to Richie, even Eddie’s sexuality. Maybe especially Eddie’s sexuality. His stupid Bigfoot hat is a prime example.

In California, when they were filming for one of their cryptid episodes, Richie had tried to make Eddie buy that eye-sore of a hat first. He’d plucked it off the rack and fitted it to Eddie’s head, folding him in half with how hard he was pushing the bill.

“You like ‘em big and hairy, right short-stack?” Richie had grinned and pointed to Eddie’s reflection in a nearby mirror. It was filthy, but Eddie could still make out the shape of Bigfoot stalking across the cap and the embroidered script.

He wasn’t wrong. Eddie does date tall, hairy guys! He wants to date one tall, hairy guy in particular! But something about the way Richie was standing, the shit-eating grin on his face, the fall of his hair over his forehead, had just _bugged him_. It was _upsetting_.

“Sounds more like your type,” Eddie had said, flicking the hat off his head and scowling when Richie rushed to pick it up before it hit the ground.

Hat in hand, Richie had looked shifty. He wouldn’t look Eddie in the face. He mumbled, “Not exactly,” like a straight guy. Upset at the insinuation that _he_ could be _queer_. Eddie figures straight fragility can’t fully be described but, like the way the U.S. Supreme Court decides what is and it’s porn, he just knows it when he hears it. Richie reeks of it.

Their final uploaded video cut out most of their trip to that precious Bigfoot themed gift shop because Eddie had gotten righteously upset and Richie did that thing he does where he fully shuts down when nobody is laughing at his jokes.

Richie had bought the hat though. To piss Eddie off. 

>Anyway, Eddie tries not to let it get to him. People are out there in the world and they can see how much he wants to suck Richie’s dick! They can see how much he wants to hold his hand, before or after the dick sucking. He isn’t picky. 

That is a bold-faced lie. Eddie is wildly picky, but Richie knows this and in the theater of Eddie’s mind, he likes it when Eddie holds his hand _while_ he sucks his dick.

Eddie likes to think of himself as an enigma, and that he’s apparently as transparent as a freshly washed window is a blow to his ego. His therapist thinks it’s funny. Mike, their camera man, also thinks it’s funny.

Mike isn’t allowed to have opinions about anything, as far as Eddie is concerned, but that has never stopped him. Mike is the worst person Eddie knows.

“You know anyone can bless anything, right? We don’t need to get it from the source. It isn’t breast milk,” Richie says and Eddie re-evaluates. Mike is the second worst person he knows. 

The point, the point of all of this, is that even though Eddie tries not to let them get to him, sometimes The Fans do get to him and he does spiral. It happens more often than he’d like to admit and this time it’s so fucking ridiculous he hasn’t told Mike. He hasn’t told Mike or his therapist and he definitely hasn’t told Richie. It’s about Richie, so it would be stupid to tell him, but also his mom said something about it, which is why it’s really hanging out in his brain like an intrusive guest he can’t reasonably kick out of his house. 

Richie’s a demon. 

Or a demon is in Richie. 

It’s stupid! Eddie knows it’s stupid! But since he saw it for the first time, he can’t get it out of his head. Richie is weird, he’s weird when they’re with other people, weird with the fans and with Mike. He’s guarded and glares daggers when they talk to Eddie. It’s weird! It freaks Eddie out! 

So, maybe Richie is a demon. 

Or maybe there’s a demon in Richie. 

They need holy water for their next episode anyway; they’re going back to the Sally House and Eddie will not enter her territory without at least a gallon of the stuff. He’d take a bath in it if Richie wouldn’t take the absolute piss out of him for it. Eddie straight refuses to do a demon episode without it anymore, especially he won’t do _this_ episode without it. But also, they’re going because Eddie needs to know. He needs to see it with his own eyes.

He needs proof that Richie is not a demon. 

Or that he is one. 

Eddie isn’t positive that he believes in demons. Or God. 

They’ll cross that bridge when they come to it.

Richie is going to drink water blessed by a priest in front of Eddie’s face and then Eddie won’t have to think about it anymore. He’ll be able to laugh about it, internally, where no one can judge him for thinking of it in the first place. 

Eddie sweeps into the church with Richie hot on his heels. He listens hard, but Richie does not burst into flames behind him. He’s both relieved and disappointed. 

When Eddie was a boy, his mom took him to the Catholic church in town. That church was older, a little more glamorous than this more modern building. Like cheap wooden pews will make people forget the literal mountains of gold the Vatican has locked up in their catacombs. He rolls his eyes at the unassuming church laid out before him, two rows of pews on dark carpet and a simple confessional next to a plain stage. Even the stained glass is just… bland. Boring. Eddie’s mother would have called it a disgrace and the part of Eddie who lives for the drama agrees.

“Mr. Kaspbrak,” the priest in the lobby says, coming out of nowhere. Eddie jumps, surprised. He almost drops the water containers he’s holding. The priest looks apologetic, but Eddie hears Richie chuckle behind him. The priest holds his hand out to shake. “I’m Father Tomas.” 

Father Tomas is a young guy with kind eyes. Eddie doesn’t think he’s cute. He pointedly doesn’t think he’s cute. Father Tomas’s dark brown eyes flick down to the rosary on Eddie’s chest and his lips flatten, corners up-turned like he’s hiding a smirk.

Eddie sets the gallon jug down on the seat of the nearest pew and shakes the priest's hand. His grip is firm and Eddie pumps his hand hard in response. He ignores the soft huff from Richie behind him. 

“Hello, Father Tomas. Please, call me Eddie.” His hand lingers for too long in the handshake. When he realizes, he snatches it back fast. “This is Richie,” he says hurriedly, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to gesture at him. Father Tomas smiles over the top of Eddie’s head, nodding behind him. He holds his hand out for Richie to shake too, but Richie declines, pulling his hand out of his jacket pocket long enough to give Tomas a curt wave before shoving it back inside. 

Father Tomas frowns and pulls his hand back. He holds them both at his sides, seemingly at a loss. 

_Weird_.

“I hear you are looking for some holy water?” the priest says, getting back up on the horse and stepping over the strangeness like a real professional. He’s smiling again. His accent is smooth and Eddie is definitely not charmed by it at all. 

He looks up at Tomas through his lashes, which he doesn’t mean to do. It’s just the angle they’re standing at is awkward and Tomas is taller than him but not by much... It’s just an awkward angle. He isn’t flirting with a priest. He steps closer with his water bottle clutched in his hands. Father Tomas arches an impressive eyebrow at him, taking a pointed step back. Eddie flushes and nods. 

Richie clears his throat. “Yeah, Padre, hook us up with the good stuff,” he says. Eddie rolls his eyes but the priest is grinning again. He’s teeth are white and straight and he is so ugly, Eddie hates him. 

“Is there anything in particular you would like blessed?” 

“Yeah--” Eddie hauls the water jug up out of the pew and holds it out for the priest. Tomas makes the sign of the cross and murmurs under his breath, eyes closed.

When he looks up, he looks peaceful and says, “All set guys?” 

“Is that it?” Richie asks, skepticism seeping in and coloring his tone a nasty shade of disrespectful. 

Father Tomas, again acting like a professional, smiles. “That’s it,” he confirms. 

Eddie opens his mouth to say… something, but Richie sighs and looks longingly back at the front door. They aren’t done yet.

“Thanks, Father,” Richie starts to say, but Eddie holds out his own water bottle, a clear Nalgene with no stickers, but riddled with dings and marks. It’s only half full, sloshing and glittering in the overhead fluorescent light. 

“Could we ah,” Eddie is bright red, lobster red. This is what he came here for, but actually doing it feels so fucking stupid. “Could we get this blessed too?” 

The priest blinks, but does his thing again. He does the cross and mumbles the words and this time when he looks up, he’s a little more closed off. Behind him, Eddie can feel Richie’s desire to flee the church. He’s always ready to hightail it away from churches. Priests. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says. He jostles both water containers, making sure his grip is solid, and smiles. “I appreciate this, Father.” 

“ _We_ appreciate this, thank you,” Richie says, irritable. He grabs at Eddie’s shirt and pushes on his shoulder to hustle him out. Eddie hates feeling rushed, but he likes how warm Richie’s hands are. 

He smells so good, pressed up along his back. 

“Bye,” Eddie says, twisting his torso and waving the hand holding his water bottle. “Bye, Father Tomas.” 

He doesn’t hear the reply because Richie’s shoved him out the door and down the front steps. 

“Jesus Christ, Rich!” Eddie exclaims, pinwheeling his arms. He’s going to drop the super special full makeover water at this rate. 

“Don’t let Father Tomas hear you talking like that,” Richie chastises, but there’s something off about the way he’s standing, the way he’s moving. 

“What does that mean?” Eddie bites back. He slams across the parking lot and yanks his car door open, shoves the jug inside. Richie might not have burst into flames in the church but to so blatantly hate on that nice and completely ugly priest? That’s so _weird_. 

Richie’s hands are in his pockets, shoulders up by his ears. “Unless you’re into that? Punish me, daddy, amirite?” he says. 

Eddie has never been so sure that his friend is possessed by a demon. He was going to wait until they were back at the studio or maybe getting Starbucks but... 

He clutches his Nalgene between shaking hands. 

“I’m so t-thirsty,” Eddie wheezes, fingers turning the cap on his water bottle. The plastic rattles noisily between them. 

“You’re sure acting like it in there…” Richie mutters, looking down at his sneakers. Eddie is afraid for when he looks up again. What his eyes are going to look like. 

Eddie’s watched a lot of television. 

But it’s stupid, because there’s no reason shows on the _CW_ would have accurate information on demon lore. Eddie tells himself this and ghosts his fingers over the wood grain of his father’s rosary. 

When he finally gets the cap off his bottle, he brings it up to his lips and takes a teeny, tiny sip. He smacks his lips. “Ah! Refreshing!” Eddie looks over at Richie and asks, voice breaking, “Do you want some, R-richie?” 

Richie’s head shoots up, hat sliding up his forehead until it’s half off his head. His brows are furrowed, nose wrinkled. “What?” 

“Water?” Eddie holds the bottle out. His hand is shaking but he thinks he’s doing a good job hiding it. His stupid heart is slamming around in his stupid throat. He’s afraid to blink. 

“Um…” Richie blinks. “Why?” 

“No-no reason! I just think you might like some of this water. In particular.” Eddie has really worked himself up about this, but if he doesn’t know in three seconds, he will literally explode, probably, and die. 

“Um, sure?” Richie’s eyes are blue under his perpetually smudged glasses and he looks concerned. He reaches out his giant, dumb hand for the bottle. Their fingers brush on the hand off. It sends sparks up Eddie’s arm. 

Eddie watches Richie drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing. A little dribbles out of his mouth, runs down his chin and neck and into the collar of his dark t-shirt. Eddie feels his jaw unclench. 

So far so good! 

Then Richie chokes. His eyes go wide behind his glasses and all the water comes bubbling out of his mouth, drips all over his shirt and down onto the asphalt. He’s grasping at his throat, gurgling and spitting up all over the ground. He’s looking around frantically. His hat flies off his head and lands on the pavement next to Eddie’s casual loafers. 

Eddie screams. 

And then he runs away. 

He is halfway down the street when he realizes Richie is laughing now, roaring with mirth, the way he gets when he thinks he’s gotten off a good one. Eddie freezes in place and turns slowly back around, chest heaving with fear and exertion. 

“What!?” he yells across the parking lot. He waves his arms in the air. “What!?” 

Richie’s laughing too hard to answer, hands on his knees. Eddie’s water bottle is on the ground, rolled halfway under his car. Richie gasps for breath, his limp hat hair falling in his face. He sounds like a donkey. 

“You sound like a fucking donkey, you demon!” Eddie shouts, hands cupped around his mouth. He’s so fucking irritated. “You’re annoying!” 

“You thought I was a _demon_? Eddie, come back here!” Richie yells back, still braying. He’s gesturing for Eddie to come closer, but Eddie doesn’t want to. 

He feels stupid. 

“I feel stupid!” He says, hands on his hips, accusatory. 

“How is that my fault!?” Richie waves his arms in the air. He’s covered in water, t-shirt sticking to his chest under his jacket. 

“I! Don’t know!” Eddie exclaims. He stomps his foot. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Richie says, his smile huge and bright. “Get back here.” 

“You’re such an asshole, asshole,” Eddie grumbles, but does walk back over to Richie and his car. 

“You’re so brave! You thought I was a demon and you still hung out with me? All this time? That’s love, baby!” Richie says, and shoots Eddie drippy finger guns. 

“Yeah! I do!” Eddie wiggles his hands in Richie’s face. “That’s why I wanted to ch--” 

Richie reels back like Eddie hit him in the face. 

Eddie didn’t, even though he definitely wants to all of the time. 

Silence settles between them and it feels unnatural. Eddie isn’t sure they’ve ever both been quiet at the same time before. 

“You love me?” Richie asks, voice small. “Like, gay love me?” 

Eddie’s face does something strange and pinched he doesn’t like and doesn’t feel like he’s ever done before. “Fuck off!” 

Richie’s face scrunches right back. “No, you fuck off!” 

The front door of the church flies open and Father Tomas comes out, long legs carrying him fast down the stairs. He stops at the foot and crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Go home!” he says. 

“We don’t live together,” Eddie replies, like an idiot. 

“I really don’t care,” the priest replies. 

Eddie gears up to say something equally as stupid, but Richie moves quick. He pulls Eddie’s shirt and puts him in the driver’s seat, closing the car door behind him. Eddie hears him say their goodbyes for the second time, voice high and reedy. He disappears from Eddie’s sight and then pops back up holding his water bottle and rushes into the passenger’s seat. 

>“Go, go, go!” he says, like they’re in a heist movie. Eddie, still amped up from being positive that Richie was possessed and then confessing his very gay love, peels out of the parking lot and races down the street. Richie shouts, gleeful, and hangs onto the handle in the ceiling for dear life. Once the church has disappeared in the rear view he slows to five over the speed limit. 

Eddie feels like he’s snorting Pixie Stix. 

He’s afraid to do drugs. 

“I’m in love with you,” he says, because why not? Today is insane. 

“Nobody got my dick right,” Richie replies. 

Eddie looks over, alarmed. Richie had picked his hat up too, back at the church. It’s sitting precariously on his head, looking just as stupid as it had before. Eddie’s empty water bottle rolls around on the floor by his feet. 

He looks wild. Eddie is bewildered. 

“What does that _mean_?” he asks. 

“Hey, watch the road!” Richie points out the front window and Eddie flicks his eyes back. He keeps glancing between Richie and the road, waiting for an explanation. 

“What!” 

“In the fanart,” Richie says. “No one got my dick right.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, irritation swelling in his chest. It’s not that he doesn’t care about it. He does, he cares very much about Richie’s dick, but it isn’t as pressing as… some things. Some other things. “Well?” 

“Well? What?” 

“Do you gay love me back?!” Eddie yells. He’s doing a lot of yelling. More than usual, and his usual is already a lot. 

“Well, yeah! Duh,” Richie reaches over and smacks Eddie’s forehead. Eddie slaps his hand away, pushes Richie’s face into the passenger’s side window, his fingers digging into Richie’s cheeks. 

“No! Not _duh_! Duh yourself, you fucking asshole. What do you mean, _duh_?” 

“I was super jealous of Father Hot-ass like, four seconds ago!” Richie is defensive, and Eddie doesn’t think he should be. Where does he get off?! “All of the priests actually like, how do you keep finding uber hot priests, dude? What kind of fucked up--! Anyway, why do you think I--” Richie cuts himself off. “The demon thing!” 

“No, what?” Eddie flushes dark red. He can feel the heat coming off of his skin. 

“Eddie, oh my Go--” 

__Eddie turns fast into the parking lot of a convenience store. He swings the car around to the back of the lot, behind the dumpsters, and slams his car into park. He’s out of his seat and in Richie’s lap in an instant._ _

Richie is giggling. “You thought I was demon because I was jeal-” 

“Shut up!” Eddie says, and then kisses Richie Tozier. 

Richie Tozier, his co-star, his fellow internet famous asshole who also looks at pictures people have drawn of his penis. 

Richie Tozier who, until five minutes ago, Eddie had allowed his mother to bully him into thinking was a demon. 

Well, in retrospect... his mother has a different idea of what constitutes demonic behavior. As in, anything gay. Also, skipping church on Sunday. 

According to Sonia Kaspbrak, Eddie’s been possessed since grade school. 

He really should have seen this coming. He’s so excitable though! 

“You’re the fucking demon,” Richie says when Eddie lets him come up for air. 

Eddie kisses him again, cupping his hands around Richie’s square jaw. The rosary around his neck hangs between them and Richie’s eyes flick down. He breathes heavily through his nose and then glances back up. 

“I’m going to perform an exorcism on your ass,” Richie continues, babbling, nipping at Eddie’s lips. “I’m going to smudge the hell out of you.” 

“You aren’t allowed to call it th-- You don’t believe in ghosts, dumbass,” Eddie reminds him. 

Richie thinks about it for a second. He tips the bill of his stupid hat out of the way with his stupid thick fingers and grins. His teeth are crooked and adorable and he says, “You make a believer outta me, baby.” 

“Ugh, gross. Was that necessary?” Eddie says, sounding annoyed but his insides are gooey. 

“Oh,” Richie replies and then his eyes roll back into his head. A third iris peeks out over his lash line. “Absolutely necessary.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes a lie is a twist.


End file.
